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Folk Tales/A Worthy Wife
A Worthy Wife appeared as a text based story on the Purple Moon Place website. It was featured on Whitney’s secret pouch page. On the link to the story Whitney says, “Sometimes hurting people changes you, like in this story…” The Story A Worthy Wife In a town long ago there lived a merchant’s son named Franz. Although he had hair of gold and a face clear and fair, Franz’s heart was often dark with unkindness. He was known to pull the wings off of butterflies and tie bells to the tails of cats. Early one morning, he was galloping his horse through the streets of town when he spied a peasant girl herding her geese across the road. Franz thought it would be a fine joke to watch the geese honk and flap their white wings in panic. So he gave spur to his horse and galloped into the middle of them. Feathers flew everywhere, and there was certainly a great deal of noise! But the girl, instead of running away, rushed toward his horse in a vain attempt to save her flock. As the horse galloped by it knocked her down and twisted her leg badly. No one was there to help the girl – and the horse, badly frightened, ignored Franz’s efforts to stop its mad race down the road. The last he saw of the goose girl was her crying in the road, her injured leg crumpled beneath her. By the time Franz rode back to his father’s home, the girl and her geese were nowhere to be seen. Filled with a rare shame, the boy vowed never to hurt another living thing. He was as good as his word, and as the years passed he became known as a man both kind and fair. With Franz’s help, his father’s business increased until they were very wealthy. Because he was both rich and good, people began wondering who he would marry. What girl in the town was worthy enough to be his wife? Finally, the merchant hired a marriage maker to go from house to house, searching out the perfect bride for his son. After visiting every house in the town, the marriage maker returned. “I have seen girls that were beautiful, but not kind,” he said. “Girls who were smart, but not beautiful. And girls who were kind but lacking in thought. I have met peasants and princesses, dairy maids and duchesses – but of them all, only one is kind, beautiful and wise.” “Then,” said the merchant to his son, “that is surely the one you should marry!” “Ah, but wait,” said the marriage maker, “for even she has an imperfection. There is a terrible scar on her leg and she limps when she walks.” “That will not do at all!” began the merchant, but Franz stepped forward. “I will see this girl,” he said. “If she is as lovely and wise as you say, then perhaps I may be of some help to her at least.” He mounted his finest horse and rode with the marriage maker to the girl’s home. It was a modest house, plain but neat, surrounded by blooming roses and shady trees. On the porch hung a cage with a yellow bird in it. From the house’s windows came the sound of someone singing. At their knock, the girl came to the door. Her eyes were wise and as clear as a brook in summer. Her hair was the amber color of honey and her cheeks were pink as a rose. But though her long skirts covered her legs, it was obvious from her limp that she was as the marriage maker described. “Maiden,” said Franz, “I hear you bear an injury in your leg. How did you come by it?” “Ah, sir,” said the girl, “it happened when I was young. I was herding my geese through the town when a terrible boy rode me down with his horse. I have had this limp ever since.” Then Franz, the good and kind merchant’s son, lowered his head with a shame he had not known in many years. “Alas, I was the wicked boy who rode that horse and struck you down. Although you could not know it, it was seeing you injured that changed my life – for if not for you and your dear twisted leg, I would be wicked still. I will marry you and no other, for every limping step you take makes me thankful I have a heart.” So they were wed the following day. And seeing him smile as he rode by his wife, the townspeople agreed that Franz had found the one girl worthy of him after all.